


Out Of A Cold Pond...

by Corvus_Aconitum



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: ...really guys it's just a way to get the boys playing, Caring Sean, Eventual Romance, Gen, Hypothermia, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies..., Nick Whump, Pre-Slash, Sean's zauberbiest is possessive, Sharing Body Heat, cursing, fluffy fluff, our boys pining, very, winter fluff, yeah Nick does a lot of cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22007191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvus_Aconitum/pseuds/Corvus_Aconitum
Summary: ...And into the frying pan.When following an elusive witness lands Nick in a freezing cold pond, he's in a mite bit of trouble. After all, what do you do when out at night in January, soaking wet, cold and miles away from civilisation? You seek out your boss in his vacation home and hope to God that you'll find the damn house before you're frozen stiff.Add a case of hypothermia, two grown men in love with each other but unable to admit their feelings and you are in for a wild ride.
Relationships: Nick Burkhardt & Sean Renard, Nick Burkhardt/Sean Renard
Comments: 27
Kudos: 256





	Out Of A Cold Pond...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkdefender](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=pinkdefender).



> It's taken a looooong time but finally I've finished the story pinkdefender has asked for. (Pinkdefender, I'm really sorry that it's taken me this long but I hope you'll enjoy this little fic, anyway.)  
> The prompt: "Maybe Nick should get hypothermia and need body heat to warm up."  
> So here it is, two hot boys with a small problem of the frozen kind. Well, not for long... ; )

Out Of A Cold Pond…

…and into the frying pan:

Dusk is approaching quickly, swallowing up what little light and warmth the pale afternoon sun has once brought. Nick isn’t overly concerned. As a Grimm he's fairly resistant to cold and he won't be out here all night. 

Monroe has dropped him off in the area a while ago, so here he is now tracking down a witness rumored to live far out in Forest Park. They have heard the man is shy, not to say an eremite, and more than a little suspicious against anyone entering his home terrain. Oh, and of course he's a kind of wesen Nick hasn't heard about yet. The only thing he's been able to find is that they are more approachable by night than by day. So far so good. After all he doesn’t want to threaten or kill anyone, he just wants to talk. 

All things considered it's going well. Nick has followed the man's trail to this lake, beautiful now in its stillness, almost magical looking in winter's low light. He is squatting down by the shore, looking at a patch of disturbed earth indicating that someone has been here - maybe to fetch water - before the ground has frozen stiff. 

_So our man has been here not that long ago, maybe yesterday if Monroe's lessons have taught me anything. There are imprints of shoes here as well. Going by what we've heard, they could match his overall size. Add the fact that nobody normally lives in this area or ventures here…. I may have found my first true lead. Now to find him, ask him if he has seen anything and then finally 48 hours off…._

“Woaah!!”

Nick has been so deeply focused on his findings that for once he is caught unaware! One moment there are hands on his jacket clad shoulders, then he is violently shoved forward and plunging headfirst into the lake.

He’s having a heart attack…. or so it feels when freezing water engulfs him, pulls him down! Then he is flaying and sputtering and desperately trying to get back up to the surface. To breathe, to _live_ … to fend off this unknown danger. 

There’s nobody there however. 

Upon breaking through the water surface - after kicking his legs like a madman to get up, up, _up_ and out of the cold - he finds the shore devoid of any attacker. All his instincts scream at him to defend himself, to work this out with his mind half frozen. Survival instincts kick back in, momentarily pushing anything else away and propelling him into getting the hell out of the water and onto safe ground before his limbs grow too stiff to move. 

>>>

He’s shivering and shaking like mad, huddling on the ground and taking great gulps of air. 

_Cold, cold, cold! Fuck, so co-old._

At first he has frantically searched the area. To detect any sign of movement, to find out what the hell has just happened and if he's still in danger… There's been nothing. It's like the one pushing him into a damn freezing pond has only been a figment of his imagination. It doesn't make for a good feeling. Really, it's fucking creepy while out here at dusk and shaken like a newborn kitten. A _wet_ newborn kitten. But it makes sense… in a way. 

Their would-be-witness hasn't been out to hurt him, he's just wanted to deter him.

_Though he may succeed in the damage department, after all, if I don't get somewhere warm rather sooner than later. Tonight I won't achieve anything anyway. If that man wants to remain unseen I cannot do a thing, not soaking wet as I am._

_Shit!! All for nothing!_

Nick would have kicked the ground in frustration but he has more immediate problems. Like no signal for his phone. Oh, yeah, wait, like no phone at all because it's gone swimming with him. Or like freezing his bits of and _hurting_ because his skin has just been shock frosted, is crawling and…. Hell, he hasn't known that you could have goosebumps like that! 

_I have to get home. Get warm. Why did I decline when Monroe offered to come along? Huh, nothing for it now. Think about walking on instead of that._

>>>

It's no use. Going as he does he will be frozen stiff long before he ever reaches home. He's been walking in direction of the City for half an hour now. If he had been in good condition - which is to say not bloody cold and wet - jogging back would have been no problem. On the contrary, he likes a long run in winter and what he likes even more, is a good challenge. And that's what it would have been: A challenge but in no way impossible for him. He has even thought about Monroe's astonished face when he would turn up on his doorstep, grinning, victorious and telling him exactly _how_ he's gotten back. 

_I've been so stupid!_

And now he's in trouble. His mind might be repeating itself - blame its frozen state - but has he mentioned that he's freezing cold, sopping wet and stranded somewhere in the forest with no signal and not a single dry cloth on his body?!

Occasional violent shivers have long since turned into continuous shaking and, hell, he's not sure he's still feeling his fingers! He tries pulling his jacket closer around himself. As soaked as it is there's no effect whatsoever, just numbness and cold. He's getting slightly desperate. 

_Of course Portland had to show that it can do real winter with frost and snow and all that jazz right this weekend. Typical._

At least barely feeling any of his limbs also means not hurting from the cold anymore. If it weren't for the fact that at some point his ability to think rationally will suffer as well, it would be half as bad. 

_I should have told Monroe to pick me back up instead of being all mysterious and saying I would get back home_ **_somehow_ ** _. If Monroe ever gets wind of it…. Oh man,_ **_that_ ** _will be embarrassing. On the other hand, if I don't find shelter of some sort very soon, being embarrassed will be the least of my worries…._

He trudges on through the dark, starting to feel more like a zombie now than back then when he's been turned undead. 

_Where's that special someone to cuddle up to when one needs them?... It's not that I don't already know who I would like that to be. I'm sure it would feel amazing to curl up against the Cap…. Don't even think it! Keep it a fantasy, that has to suffice. So… to curl up against_ **_him_ ** _. Oh, who am I kidding? He would sooner bite my head off than admit to having fallen in love with me._

_… Like I have fallen for him._

_ >>> _

He honestly doesn't know how long he's been stumbling on, pulling back into his thoughts and away from merciless cold, when he grows aware that even thinking is becoming difficult. 

_Shit. Not good._

_But I need…._

_Need to find warm place to stay._

_…_

_Warm place…. Wait… I_ **know** _a warm place!_

God, yes, that might save his ass alright! Although the memory is vague and not any easier to access in his current state, it's his only hope. 

_Warm place. As soon as possible._

He knows that he's growing hypothermic…. That a Grimm’s robustness will soon be the only thing keeping him upright. 

_I mustn't stop. Need to go on._

If he recalls correctly then Renard has some kind of vacation home up here somewhere. He has heard Wu and the Captain talk about it some time ago and then earlier today Wu has even joked about the possibility of meeting Renard on his investigation. Back then he hasn't known what their Sergeant has meant but now he's connecting the dots. 

If the house is somewhere in the area, then this must be where Renard has gone for his 'weekend away'. It’s been all over the station, the Captain actually taking a weekend off. And going somewhere with no signal or internet as well, Wu has confided with that typical smug expression that tells you, he knows more than you do. 

_Renard and a warm place. Brilliant._

_Me going in the wrong direction for God knows how long? Not so brilliant._

_Nothing for it, anyhow. I need to find it. Now where is it? Wu and Renard, they've been talking about the place. I need to remember its exact location. Easy…. Haha, funny._

>>>

To keep himself going Nick steers his thoughts toward the one person he wants to find, _needs_ to find. To Sean Renard and the whole convoluted situation. 

_Much nicer to think about this, even though it's bloody frustrating, than to ponder the possibility of freezing outside in January in some remote bit of forest._

The situation is tricky at best: 

They’ve been dancing around the matter for weeks now. It’s easy, really. Nick is in love with Renard and he’s fairly sure that the zauberbiest returns these feelings. Problem only is that Nick hasn’t had the gut to ask him out because, let’s face it, Sean Renard is his superior, he’s a Goddamn Prince…. In short, he’s well out of his league.

Now things would be different, if Sean were to take the first step, but that man is more reclusive than a nutshell and has stronger survival and self-protective instincts than even Nick’s mum has…. 

Nick's badass, on the run for half her life Grimm mum….

It’s complicated and Nick isn’t sure what to do about the situation. But then again, if that damn house doesn't appear soon, maybe he won't have to worry about such things any longer. 

>>>

Sean has needed to get out. That hasn’t happened in a long time and if his subordinates are to be believed, it has never happened at all. 

_They are exaggerating. Okay, they aren't that far from the truth. They should mind their own business._

The Bastard Prince sneers at being the cause for station gossip. He hates that and it has nearly kept him from coming out here at all. He has done it nonetheless because, hell, he _really_ needs to clear his head.

Much to his inner disturbance there’s this stormy eyed Detective who has slipped past his defenses and right into his… (He shudders inwardly.) his heart. It's not that he hasn't tried to keep him out. He allows no one to get behind his defenses. Doing that means death or damage more often than not, he has learned that the hard way. There’s a reason that he’s not all chummy with his colleagues and subordinates. Or with anyone for that matter. Cool detachment has always allowed him to keep in control. To think rationally, sometimes even unscrupulously, in order to keep his Precinct going, rule a canton and stay ahead of his murderous family. 

Until now. Despite his best efforts Nick Burkhardt has managed to topple the odds. Just like he has managed to shake up Portland's view on Grimm's, the way Sean himself thinks the world should be…. Just about everything. Nick is…. 

_Damn it, didn't I come here to get Nick_ **out of** _my head?! Instead here I am, thinking about him. And all the while I'm lodging him more firmly inside of me. Going the way I am, I could just as well use a screw drive._

Images come unbidden: 

Those expressive grey eyes, once sparking with mischief, once home to an unyielding core of steel. 

His body, the way he moves. Lithe, well trimmed. Graceful, energetic. Deadly, protective. The way he talks, thinks, that endless well of emotions driving him….

That bull-headed stubbornness. Infuriating. Lovely. Making him strong, hindering him….

_God, I need coffee. Coffee, a good book and stretching out on this very comfortable leather couch in front of the fire._ **_Not_ ** _thinking about Nick or my… feelings. About how it would be a breech in my defenses to open up to him._

_...About how amazing it would be. He’s not interested, anyway. It’s not important. It means everything…._

_Arrgh…!_

>>>

Sean denies flinching badly when out of nowhere someone knocks on his front door. He is just about to sit down and put his mug of coffee on the side table when it happens. It's safe to say - even if he likes to pretend it hasn't happened at all - that only years of training save him from spilling the black liquid all over the hardwood floor. 

_Who can that be? Why has that knock sounded so erratic? Why is that someone not knocking again?_

Putting down the mug and grabbing his gun, he stashes that into the back pocket of his jeans and goes to investigate. His steps are silent and his movements fluid like those of a giant creature of prey. 

What awaits him at the other side of the door has him stop short, gun forgotten and any thoughts of assassins flying right out of the window. For an instant he's plunged back into disturbing memories:

A dark and dreary night, Nick Burkhardt turned into a zombie. Paler than a ghost, appearance sickly and rugged, his eyes wild, unfocused….

It's like a double image. Two layers. The memory finally slipping away to show what is really there:

Nick Burkhardt on his doorstep. The man of his oh so troubled thoughts. He looks like half frozen roadkill. 

_Cold, desperate, vulnerable. In need of help. In need of protection._

These are his immediate thoughts before rational thinking reasserts itself:

This is Nick! He’s shaking like mad, but stiff as his limbs seem to be, it looks more like there’s a great force of energy contained in a very human, breakable shell. A statue of ice breaking into a thousand little pieces. Where has that thought come from? That sudden stab of worry. It unsettles him. 

_What the hell…?!_

Despite his inner turmoil no one would suspect that he is anything other than the capable, unflappable Police Captain. Or that his feelings for Nick are anything other than professional. He may frown in confusion, may show detached concern and a shimmer of suspicion that he will never be able to push away. On the outside though he is calm.

...While inside of him rages a storm. 

>>>

"Nick, what happened…?" 

A thousand questions running through his head at the sight of the Grimm:

_What is he doing here?_

_How has he found me?_

_Why is he looking half drowned…? And frozen…?_

And all that slipping into the background compared to the more important facts:

Nick is clearly hypothermic, his skin looking almost translucent for its pallor. 

He is soaking wet, shaking like mad, arms wrapped around himself. Looking vulnerable. His lips, fingers, everything is bearing an unhealthy, blue-ish tint. 

He has - for a minute straight - tried to get out even a single word without any success. At all. It is this beside all else which propels him into action. He steps forward, grabs his Detective by his shoulders - jolting in shock at how _cold_ he is to the touch - and pulls him inside. Thoughts about a weekend alone, misgivings about allowing Nick inside, it has all vanished in face of Nick’s distress. In face of that _look_ , those huge eyes. Their focus for once not sharp but slipping. 

"Questions later. We need to get you inside."

His tone is brisk, business like. It hides how much Nick’s state worries him. It enables him to think clearly and act accordingly. 

>>>

Nick wants to say a thousand things. Intelligent things that would make him look less like an idiot. In short, things Sean Renard would have said, the eloquent bastard. 

Intentions are all well and good, except that his jaw muscles are locked tight, he only knows he's still standing because he's staring Renard's chest instead of his feet, and awareness in general is fast slipping out of his grasp. 

When Renard grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him forward, he is not prepared to move. Hell, he doesn't even really feel that touch - firm as it must be - and he needs too long to work out what is happening. So he stumbles. Right into Sean Renard's arms, his legs giving way after being numb and cold for so long.

His Captain catches him, must lead or carry him inside because the nature of illumination changes. Dark night becomes a square of warm light painting a tall silhouette in its middle before it becomes flickering flames of a toasty, roaring fire. 

He would have liked to process more. Like Renard's words. Or how to keep standing without the zauberbiest holding him up. 

>>>

He has half expected Nick falling, which is fortunate, because all of a sudden his Detective is an almost dead weight in his arms. His mind is racing, thinking about what needs to be done. Going by the soaked and even frozen state of his clothing, Nick must have taken a dive some time ago. This wetness is not just from the odd bit of snow. What has happened exactly, he cannot say but given the distance of any body of water to his house, the amount of time Nick must have spent outside is a cause for worry. 

While the rational part of his brain contemplates the best plan of action for restoring body heat and checking for injuries, his more instinctive side has other priorities. 

...Priorities he needs to curb for giving in to them could end in disaster:

Undress Nick right there, kiss every inch of icy skin laid bare. To see him in all his naked beauty, _warm_ him…. Warm him with his own body draped over the Grimm’s naked one and preferably in his bed. 

Shaking his head, he forces himself to think rationally again.

He is no doctor so he doesn't dare putting him in the shower. While he is sure that Nick’s Grimm heritage does its part to keep him going, he doesn't want to risk burning him by turning the heat up too high. 

So it will be undressing and then wrapping him in warm blankets. Maybe something hot to drink. 

Concern pools in the zauberbiest's gut and disturbs him on a level he doesn’t want to contemplate. Forbids himself to contemplate! 

Nick may present a worrying picture and be in dire need of help, but over time Sean has become so attuned to the other man - to his Grimm aura especially - that he can practically feel it pulsing through his veins. Giving life, giving strength. 

Although Nick is hypothermic and slipping off into that fuzzy state you acquire after being too cold for too long, he is not yet in danger of dying. 

It makes him almost weak kneed with relief. 

>>>

Nick isn’t aware of much. There is being pulled inside and then being made to stand in front of the fire of a big fireplace. There is cozy warmth barely felt for icy cold seems to have settled in his very bones. There is Renard still holding him up when it's becoming apparent that he cannot stand on his own. The man is talking to him. Nick tries concentrating on that voice. It’s difficult. His awareness of things seems to have frozen over as well. 

His chin grabbed in a firm hold. Suddenly there is only Renard’s serious, borderline concerned gaze taking up his field of vision. Slowly words are filtering in….

“Nick….”

“Nick, are you with me?”

The zauberbiest frowns in concern. Nick wants to kiss away that frown. Oh, wait, Renard is waiting… for something. An answer. An affirmation of some kind.

He nods jerkily, gets out a rasp of: “Ye-ah.”

The ghost of an approving smile in return. It makes him want to do more to make his Captain smile. Then the other man is talking again. Listening gets a little easier.

“I am going to help you out of your clothes. Is that okay?”

He needs inordinately long to work out what those words mean. So long that Renard frowns again. Nick forces himself to concentrate despite the layer of proverbial ice around his brain.

“Kay. ‘s o-kay.”

“Good. You are doing well. Alright. I’ll help you out of these.”

In his tone swings measure of warmth Nick thinks he could live for. Blame his state on it but Renard's voice, his closeness, it’s doing the most peculiar things to him. 

The next thing he knows is sitting on the thick rug in front of the fire with his tall and strong Captain kneeling before him. The man’s focus is intense as he peels off layer after layer. Sometimes it's uncomfortable, stiff clothing sliding over icy cold skin, and he must have made a sound or two for Renard apologizes quietly. It’s okay. Nick’s own focus is soon taken up by something else entirely and for a short time he can forget feeling bloody cold and hurting where life starts returning to his limbs. 

It is the zauberbiest’s gaze, so focused, so… reverent. One could say that Renard is just being careful but Nick is an expert at reading people and his boss is not only taking care, he is - for lack of better words - mesmerized and reverent. 

At one point he cocks his head slightly to the side as if contemplating closely what he sees. Just as if he has never seen something alike. Just as if in his eyes Nick is special. The sight of it makes the Grimm cleanly melt. Or is that growing warmer again? 

Whatever it is, Nick _is_ slowly warming up and with that a whole new set of problems appears:

At first his shaking increases, then it’s pins and needles and panting because it _hurts_!

It becomes so bad that for some time Nick tunes his Captain out completely. So bad, indeed, that he doesn’t take heed of where he is and with whom until he somehow finds himself in Renard’s firm embrace and the man talking to him with urgency coloring his normally so smooth and even voice:

“Nick, listen to me. Take a breath! You can do it. Breathe deeply. It will soon get better. You can do this!”

Nick gasps for air. He hasn’t noticed that he has gone from small puffs of air being expressed from his lungs along with every violent shiver to almost hyperventilating when feeling returns to his limbs. 

“Good. You are doing well. Just keep it up….”

Is he really doing well? He doesn’t know. Renard talks about helping the process along and Nick doesn’t understand what that means until the zauberbiest starts rubbing his hands briskly over his arms and chest and back. He could have cried out at the increase of pain but at least he’s aware enough by now to understand that it is really helping him. While it may not be the best approach for someone else, his Grimm nature is a force to be reckoned with and now that he’s out of the cold it starts heating his blood and firing up his metabolism. Renard seems to understand this just like he seems to understand a lot of things pertaining his primal Grimm side, so Nick just buries his face against that firm sweater clad chest and lets him proceed. 

At some point a blanket appears around his shoulders and while he really cannot fathom when that has happened, he appreciates the additional warmth. 

>>>

Having Nick Burkhardt virtually naked in his arms is gift and curse at once. He is astonished by the level of trust his Grimm shows toward him and frightened by what their closeness does to him emotionally. But there is something else, something deeply alluring that speaks to his ‘biest on such a primal level that drawing away becomes no option at all:

It is Nick’s Grimm aura, that fiery, strong and instinct driven force. At first it’s like a flame rekindling before burning stronger, before becoming a fire and then a furnace. Nick might be in pain and still feeling too cold to the touch but he is fast recovering and it becomes apparent by his senses returning. His breathing calms down somewhat - thank God - and while the shaking gets even worse, his eyes reacquire their usual spark. 

At seeing this Sean can finally shake off his own protective instincts, that have told him to _hold_ and _warm_ and _protect_ his Grimm at all costs, and he can start thinking about bundling him up in blankets and such. 

>>>

Awareness returns to Nick alright and with it returns his frustration at the whole matter of their awkward denial of their mutual feelings:

_Oh for crying out loud! Renard's hands all over my naked body and I am too cold to feel much of anything! First numbness, then pins and needles. It's such a damn shame!_

He gets distracted by being moved over to the large and comfy looking leather couch. Fair enough, Renard has warned him but while he’s more alert now, he’s still not at his best. 

He is covered by a true army of blankets, under him, around him, covering him. It feels nice and bad at once. The mere wish embarrasses him but he wants to be back in Renard’s arms. To hell with pain or shame over being stark naked in front of his normally so dispassionate, sometimes even calculating boss. Who cares, it has felt damn nice!

>>>

After bundling Nick up and seeing him safe on the sofa, Sean’s wesen and human side both feel accomplished. They have done well… yet they mourn the loss of body contact, the zauberbiest half especially.

To have Nick kneeling, naked, shaking. Vulnerable, at his mercy… and still trusting him. His ‘biest has inwardly purred at the sight. 

_Precious. A gift. His prize._

Oh, yes, the zauberbiest is a possessive creature. Protective as well. And drawn to the Grimm like a moth to the flame. A dangerous affliction. Dangerous and amazing. _His Grimm!_ A Grimm that is also very human and in danger of catching a hellish cold even though he is no longer in immediate danger of dying from hypothermia. 

_If_ he continues taking good care of his Detective, that is. Looking down on Nick under all those blankets, still pale and wracked by shivers, pushes him back into care mode. Actually, harnessing his ‘biest and keeping it under tight wraps while he further assesses the situation, is a major act of will. 

He leans down to feel Nick’s cheek, checks how well his eyes are following his movements and if he is starting to slip off again. He needs to know how Nick is feeling. He needs him to say something in order to quiet down the damn, rather gravelly and ‘biestly voice inside of him that snarls at him to make sure!!

>>>

Nick has to work hard not to lose himself in the pure sensation of Renard’s hand on his face. Or his scent or his appearance or his strong zauberbiest vibes….

"Nick, is it helping?"

In his haze Nick doesn't understand what Sean is asking or what implications there are to the question. He only knows he's fucking cold, his teeth just may be chattering loud enough to tune out the Captain's next question and he's quite sure he'll never get warm again. Oh, yeah, and that his Grimm and human mind alike yearn for the half-zauberbiest to be as close as possible. On top of that he's only half aware of what he's saying... or more like asking.

"Co-old?"

"There's nothing for it then." The meaning of these words goes right over his head. He’s still busy mapping Sean out with all his senses. There's some rustling and swishing and movement. His pile of blankets is lifted and he may or may not have let out on undignified whimper at that but then…. 

>>>

The moment Sean hears that whispered, _breezed_ question his primal side decides to make a point. And he has known from the moment he has pulled his Grimm inside, hasn’t he?

“There’s nothing for it then.”

Nick needs to get warm. Not just out of his hypothermic state like right now but warm and cozy and _pliant_ in his arms. 

_God, I should really reign my ‘biest in. These thoughts are so primitive…. These primal urges so…. Oh, fuck it all, I should undress and get under those blankets before my Grimm starts shaking even worse._

When Nick all but squeaks at having the blankets lifted, it makes a tiny, fond smirk appear. 

Oh yes, that incorrigible Detective is most definitely in need of some body contact and warming up. He can see it clearly now, the longing in those grey eyes. Urges and wishes they have both denied themselves for so long. 

Clad in only a black pair of boxer Sean moves in to help his beloved Grimm. 

>>>

"Hush. It's alright. Come on, sit up a bit."

Nick is in a limbo, his understanding of things a little sluggish. Blame that very distracting 6’4’’ of gorgeous zauberbiest leaning down and, oooh, moving near! He is helped with sitting up, doesn’t need to think or act apart from letting things happen. His instinctive side hums happily, understanding the implications much sooner than his rational mind. 

Hot skin against his. A powerfully built body slipping in beside and half underneath his.

_Oh heaven!_

An arm slips around his still cold body, he's drawn into safety and warmth. Into a strong embrace.

_Hmmmm._

Renard's hand - so warm against his skin - cups his cheek.

 _Like a lover's touch. Tender._

Nick curses his numbness again. Fiercely. And then his cheek is pressed right up to that amazing, even better than imagined chest of his zauberbiest Captain and he sighs deeply. 

Content. Safe. Finally able to settle.

>>>

Nick comes up from his doze slowly. He’s still safely ensconced in Sean’s arms and not at all prepared to let go. Yet he should, shouldn’t he? It would be the proper thing to do. Or he could just pretend to be asleep for a little longer. Sean moving to feel Nick's cheek destroys that plan.

_Damn it, he’s too perceptive by far!_

A possible end to their touch and closeness feels like a crushing weight settling on top of his chest. That is until he grows aware that Sean’s hand is cupping his cheek once again and it feels like a lover's touch. And very much so!

He looks up into the other man’s angular face, hopeful and fearful at what he will find. The Captain’s gaze is concerned, yes, but so much warmer than usual. Almost tender.

"I think you have passed the ice cube stage."

A low murmur sending shivers down Nick’s spine that have nothing to do with being cold at all. The Grimm holds himself somewhat tensely - awaiting to be pushed away with dread. Renard, however, makes no move to bring distance between them, rather the opposite. It’s a small miracle and Nick barely dares to breathe fearing that it will turn out being a dream and nothing more.

It isn't. Neither of them says anything - neither wanting to destroy the moment maybe - and they just continue lying tangled together. Bathing in the sensation Nick finally faces what needs to happen. His mind is shouting at him: _Do it! Do it now!_

His heart is racing, thoughts turning at such a fast pace that it is almost dizzying. 

_Do it! Ask him! You cannot go back to how things were. Not after this. Not after feeling all this. Do it…!_

“Woah, what is the matter, hmm? Your heart is racing all of a sudden. Are you okay?”

At first amusement, then a touch of concern as Renard contemplates the matter, maybe fearing a relapse.

 _Oops, packed tight as we are, Renard can_ **_feel_ ** _my heart! Damn it! Now you’ve botched it…._

_Simply do it! Ask him!_

He hesitates, heart pounding even stronger, tongue tied by nervousness and doubts.

“Nick?”

He is held just a little tighter, is sure that it’s an entirely unconscious gesture on his ‘biest’s part. It decides him. He’s known for bouts of impulsiveness, isn’t he? Where are they now, if not in asking for what he desires most?

"Can I stay... for longer?"

Sean seems to understand what he's really saying. A chuckle rumbles through his broad chest. An amused, real life chuckle! Nick feels gifted.

"If you don't scare me out of my wits again by turning up on my doorstep half frozen, then I am amenable to the idea."

_Wow, that has been easier than I thought._

"Really? You mean...? You really mean it the way I hope you do?"

He cannot know that his very confident Captain has had more than an hour to come clean with his feelings and with what he wants from the future. That he has turned the matter around in his head countless times while gazing down on his dozing Detective and has been planning how to have this talk in a hundred different ways. Well, Sean Renard is nothing if not able to adapt. He doesn’t need to show his insecurity or doubts, right now he just needs a witty, cool as cucumber reply to his lovely Grimm’s brave words….

>>>

The hope shining in those expressive eyes. Sean knows what a gift he has received, has seen those eyes dark with anger and steely with suspicion or reproach. To see Nick so open. Some might say it’s in his nature. They are wrong. No matter how open and easy going this man is, he is no fool and his admittance of feelings not a small matter.

It makes Sean feel lighter and less weighted down by worries than he has been in a long time. It enables him to say: 

"Yes, my incorrigible Grimm. Yes, I am very sure of what I am saying. And now, come close again or, better yet, let me do what I’ve wanted to do for a very long time now."

When their lips meet for the very first time, it is a thousand times better than any fantasy one of them has ever had! It is soft and warm and wet. It is their scents and touches mingling. ‘biest and Grimm inside are humming with delight, content for now with kissing, exploring and staying very close together.

>>>

“It’s unfair, you know? You’ve got to keep your boxers on while I am stark naked and cold…. Cold is not doing justice at all….”

The in-between part has been such a low mumble that Sean hasn’t understood a thing but he can imagine quite well what Nick has been implying and it makes him smirk just a little evilly.

“What was that in the middle?”, he asks oh so innocently.

Nick grumbles and glares, murmuring something like:

“You know very well what I’ve said.”

“Hmm, are you sure? I might have misunderstood. You really should repeat that louder.”

Before Nick can punch him for teasing about such a sensitive topic, he lets him off the hook and presses a gentle kiss to the top of that unruly mob of hair. It seems to appease his Grimm, at least going by the almost-purr he is emitting. 

_My Grimm._

The possessive, almost aggressive edge has gone in favor of something gentler, something tender and soft. A thought crosses his mind, that has his inner ‘biest purring _very_ loudly.

“Say, Nick, apart from being most curious about what has led to your sorry state, are you expected somewhere in the next few days?”

A slow smile appears on those handsome features of his Detective. 

“No, I cannot say I am. I told Monroe that I would get home on my own and starting this evening I'm on my 48 hours off. Why?”

He raises his brows in a picture of innocent inquiry and in response is pulled into a deep and passionate kiss. Sometimes actions speak so much louder than words and it’s safe to say that Nick is more than happy to replied in kind.


End file.
